


A Little Closer To Home

by zzoaozz



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzoaozz/pseuds/zzoaozz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolverine has an admirer who is sneaky as a thief.   Romance blossoms at the mansion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Closer To Home

Gambit cursed softly and wound his way through the press of people in the club back to the door. The bouncer stationed there spoke to him with an irritating air of familiarity, but he just waved the man away without hearing his comment. He had a headache. It was just a low pulse of pain behind his eyes. He wanted a cigarette badly, but he had promised Hank he would quit and contrary to what anyone thought, he did keep his promises. 

He straddled the Haiyabusa and kicked it to life taking a savage pleasure in the power and vibration of the enhanced motor. He urged the bike to top speed letting the rush of wind clear his head. He took the curve onto the lane leading up to the mansion way too fast and nearly laid her down. His foot guard sent up a shower of sparks as he corrected himself and slowed it down. He cut the engine and rolled it the rest of the way into the garage. 

Wolverine was there, cigar clenched firmly between his teeth, working on his Jeep. He looked up as the Cajun entered. "Scuffed her up good, Gumbo." 

Gambit looked down at the foot guard and cursed again. The chrome was ruined. He would have to replace it or have it refinished. 

"Somebody havin' a nicotine fit." 

He growled at Wolverine and on an impulse snatched the cigar from his mouth. "These things will kill you." He dropped the cigar and ground it out on the floor of the garage. 

"That's comin' out of yer hide, Bub." 

Wolverine did not really sound angry over it, so Gambit ignored his better judgement and snapped back at him. "Fine, have at it. It not like anybody would care if Gambit got carved up good, anyway. Non?" 

"Ah, feeling sorry for yourself, huh?" 

"Nah, facing facts is all." He started to walk away when Logan caught his elbow. He had not heard him move. Not for the first time, he thought the man should have been a thief. "What you want, Wolverine?" 

"If ya need somebody to talk to, Cajun, ya know where I am." 

"Merci, Logan, Gambit remember that." 

Wolverine let him go but watched the Cajun intently until he disappeared into the mansion. He shook his head and dropped down beside the bike. It was not too bad. He wondered what had the kid so torn up that he'd risk spilling his baby. It had been the better part of a year since he called it quits with Rogue and he'd had no shortage of 'friends' in the meantime. He had seemed all right, but tonight the kid had reeked of pain and despair. He shrugged and went for his tool kit. 

 

Gambit stretched under the stinging spray of the shower. His anger was slowly fading as the heat and steam relaxed him. 'What on Earth is wrong with you, LeBeau?' He stared as his reflection in the shaving mirror. It offered no clues to his present state of fugue. He dried off and flung himself down on the bed. He needed something to make him feel alive again, something to make him real. He knew well enough what would make him feel that way again...love. He needed to be in love as badly as a drunk needed his booze or a crackhead needed his fix. 

When Rogue had started seeing Joseph, he had no longer been able to keep pretending he loved her, agonizing over her rejection, being the tragic lover scorned. He had picked himself up and gone out looking for a new obsession. Instead, he had found a series of shallow, meaningless relationships and a string of one night stands. He had filled his nights with those, but more and more often as of late, he had come home feeling lonelier, more dejected than he had before. 

He could have as many sexual partners as he wanted, female, male, or other. He could even turn on his mutant charm power and make them love him, but that was not what he wanted. He wanted someone to love him for what he was. 

What he was...He pondered that for a moment. He was handsome, intelligent...though he did not flaunt the fact, he was friendly, loyal, talented. He could dance, cook, sweep the ladies off their feet. He had his good points, but there was plenty of bad to offset them. He knew his faults as well as anyone, he was a flirt, a tease, a liar if it served to preserve his own dignity and well being. He was shallow on the surface, often careless and thoughtless with others, reckless, moody, and he could not let a sleeping dog lie, or walk away from trouble. Between his mouth and his errant power, it was all he could do to keep his skin in one piece most of the time. Lady luck had bailed him out too many times to count. 

He liked romance, the art of seduction, the intricate and dangerous dance of love, but he was not a romantic. He did not believe in love at first sight or that there is a perfect love out there for everyone. Life on the streets of "The Big Easy" had a way of making you hard, jaded. He sighed and flipped off his bedside lamp. Since it was highly unlikely that his soul mate would come sweeping in on a white horse and carry him away, he would have to actively search for a compatible lover, one that was obtainable this time. He would have to open himself up again and trust another person. That scared the Hell out of him. 

 

Gambit struggled up out of bed scrambling for his clothes before he realized that it was Saturday. He did not have to show up for danger room practice or any of Scott's interminable lectures. He had the whole day to himself. He dressed at a more leisurely pace taking a long hot shower and brushing his hair dry before making his way downstairs to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. He reached for the pack of cigarettes he usually kept in his jacket and sighed when his hand closed on nothing but a handful of dice and a deck of cards. He put on his usual rakish smile and stepped into the crowded kitchen, laughing and chatting with everyone and flirting with Jubilee and Jean shamelessly before heading out to the garage to survey the damage to his bike. 

He strode over to the machine and stopped dead. Someone had buffed out the scratches and retouched the chrome. The bike looked as good as new. He could smell the fresh paint. He looked around the garage and his eyes lit on the crushed cigar lying where he had left it. He put his hands in his pockets and walked away from the mansion, lost in thought. 

 

Wolverine looked up from his book at the sound of a knock at his door. He flared his nostrils catching the scent of the person outside. 

"It's open. Come on in, Gumbo." 

Gambit opened the door and dropped into the one oversized easy chair in the room and looked around. The room was not what one would expect from Wolverine. It was a big corner room with windows facing out on two sides. Tall poplar trees blocked the windows allowing sunlight to slant through in long streaks. The shadows of leaves and branches played across the floor where they swayed in the light breeze. All the windows were wide open. The oak bed was huge and heavily built, understandable given Wolverine's weight. It was covered in a homemade looking patchwork quilt. A nightstand beside it held a cheap alarm clock and a reading light. The only ornamentation in the room was a set of Japanese Katanas on the dresser and a shelf of well-worn books opposite the bed. The room was comfortable, casual even, and somehow friendly feeling. 

"Whatcha want, Kid?" 

Gambit took a deep breath and apologized for the night before. Then, he handed Wolverine an object from his coat pocket. 

Wolverine looked at the small gift box curiously. He lifted the lid and raised a bushy brow. The cigar inside was an expensive one, way better than the one Gambit had ruined. "Ya didn't have to do that, Gambit." 

"Gambit wanted to, and he wanted to thank you for fixing de bike. That was nice o'you." 

Wolverine tucked the cigar in his shirt pocket and set the box on the nightstand. "You haven't been acting like yourself lately. Ya wanna tell me what's really eating you, Remy?" 

Gambit looked up curiously. Wolverine had called him by his given name and that had sounded like compassion in his gravelly voice. Suddenly he did want to tell him everything, he wanted to drink in the offer of compassion, flex his charm power and build that spark of compassion into sympathy, desire, and need. 

He squelched that thought in the moment it was born. Wolverine could smell emotion, to use the charm power on him would be not only immoral, but damn dangerous. He bit his tongue, using the sharp pain to wipe out the treacherous thought. 

"Gambit appreciate that, Logan, but he'll be fine." 

"Ya don't smell fine, Kid. Ya don't act fine. Ya smell like someone who's close to comin' apart." 

Gambit stared at the Canadian. Logan's bright blue eyes were locked on him. He had never looked closely at those eyes before. They were concerned, honest, and somehow sad, old eyes that had seen terrible things. He felt a familiar warmth spread over him, a tingling in his extremities. 

"No!" He jumped to his feet. 

"Gambit, what's wrong? Ya all right?" 

"Gambit just remember something important he forgot to do. Got to run." 

Without waiting for a response, he bolted from Logan's room and all but ran back to his own. He sank down on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chin. Logan, he wanted Logan. It was impossible, but he could not deny it. He knew his own emotions better than most people, human or mutant. He had never seen Logan show any interest in a man, but he had only seen him in love with one woman, and she was dead. Seducing him would mean risking one of the few friends he had, not to mention life and limb if Logan turned out to be some sort of redneck homophobe. Still though, he could imagine what it would feel like to have those heavily muscled arms holding him tight, to feel the scrape of rough whiskers against his cheek, the pain and pleasure of being taken by a man, the heady pleasure of taking a man...He groaned and headed for the shower, he needed some serious cold water. 

Logan watched Gambit flee. The kid was cracking up. His emotions had changed so rapidly Logan could not distinguish one scent from another. He wondered if he ought to tell the professor about it. Chuck had a way of getting in your head and straightening things out even without his psychic abilities. So far, though, whatever emotional problem the kid was having was not affecting his performance and he was entitled to his privacy. Hell, the kid wasn't half as moody as he could be. He chuckled and bit down on the cigar. 

 

Wolverine woke tense and alert, listening for whatever sound had disturbed his sleep. The mansion would have been silent to ordinary ears, but to his enhanced senses, it was alive with sound. Somewhere two floors down a radio played a local pop station. At least a dozen different snores blended into a comforting harmony. Beds creaked as their occupants tossed restlessly. A few breathed rapidly or flailed, caught in the grip of their own nightmares. 

The usual night owls were up and about. Hank was up moving around in the lab. Down in the housekeeping quarter, Ann was typing away on her computer and would be long into the wee hours of the morning. They were both confirmed insomniacs. Hank took his condition with a grain of salt and mutant resilience, but Logan had wondered from time to time how the human remained so unfailingly cheerful and competent on so little sleep. Morph was also awake. he had spent every night since his return pacing back and forth in the TV lounge, probably changing his appearance in a continuous uncontrolled flow from image to image. He did that a lot lately. Logan knew he was not the only one who believed that the shapeshifter was losing his mind. 

He inhaled deeply, nothing unusual there either. No enemy scents, nothing unfamiliar, the melange of grooming products, perfumes, and the individual body scents that defined people, fresh dew on the grass outside, the warm wind, distant smell of rain to come, a stray dog prowling through the yard, Ro's flowers planted anywhere there was sun enough to support them, the usual nighttime scents. 

Giving up on getting back to sleep, he rose and pulled on faded jeans and an old, black t-shirt. He opened the door quietly and slipped out into the hall. He almost stepped on the flower without seeing it. He turned back into his room and flipped on the light. It was a single rose, an expensive one from the look of the tissue wrapping paper, not one of those $2.99 convenience market jobs. It smelled real good too. He looked for a card to see who had dropped it and grunted in surprise when he saw his own name written on the tag in an elegant handwriting. There was nothing else written on it and no scent except for the ink and the faint scent of patchouli. He searched the hallway quietly but found nothing to indicate who had left the rose for him. Puzzled, he finally went back to bed, but sleep was a long time coming. 

 

The rose turned out to be only the first in a series of small gifts, expensive candy, a great zippo with faux ivory plates and an etching of a clipper ship in full sail on the sides, an old fashioned pocket watch, tickets to the movies and to hockey games, even a new pair of engineer boots when he lost one of his old ones on a mission, each complete with a gift tag or card in the same lovely script. The cards were always the romantic, poetic kind with a handwritten note added at the bottom. Each was more intimate and passionate than the last.. After three months of the unsolicited attention, he was still no closer to discovering the identity of his secret admirer. 

He could not figure out how the person was getting past him. There was never any scent on anything except for the fragrance of the essential oil, no lotion, no skin oil, not even the smell of rubber gloves. No matter how closely he listened, he never heard the mysterious courter outside his door. Carefully laid traps failed to catch their prey, and if he stayed in the hallway waiting, no one showed up. It was as if his secret admirer knew exactly where he was. The whole thing was disturbing but somehow exciting as well. 

He did not mention the events to the other X-men. He did not figure that it was any of their business. One other person out there knew what was going on and sooner or later that person would slip up. The weird thing was that he was not really sure he wanted that to happen. If he knew who it was, he would have to decide what he wanted to do about it. 

Wolverine found himself in a good mood more often than normal. He caught the other X-Men looking at him oddly from time to time. When he did, he would just grin at them and let them wonder. Jubilee took shameless advantage of his good mood hitting him up for rides to the mall, money for the movies, trips to the skating rink. Gambit would often join them, he seemed to enjoy shopping and playing as much as she did. The three of them never failed to have a good time. The trio became something of an institution around the mansion. 

Gambit seemed to be in a much better mood lately as well. He smiled and laughed more, and the humor actually reached his scent unlike the fake brevity he had been using on the others for so long. He always seemed to be there whenever Wolverine turned around, giving him a hand in the garage, covering his back in the danger room, watching hockey with him. He had noticed the Acadian had not been going out lately. He was staying near the mansion and interacting with the others more. He looked healthier. Wolverine wondered if it was being off the cigarettes. Whatever the reason, he liked this new Cajun a lot better than the brooding, sarcastic Gambit that he had seen so often over the past year. 

 

"C'mon Wolvie, they don't have a sale like this every day! I just need a pair of heels to go with my formal, and a purse to match of course, and maybe these really cute boots in the sales paper. Please!" 

"I hate shoe shopping." 

Gambit came in from the kitchen just then carrying a tray of sodas. "You know you need to make a trip to de mall yourself. If you going to co-chaperone the dance with Gambit, you need something a little more dressy than jeans and a flannel shirt." 

"Nobody said anything about me having to dress up." 

"You are not going like that!" Jubilee interjected. The absolute horror in her voice did not sway Wolverine in the least. 

Gambit chuckled and stepped in. "Why don' you go get Kitty to help you with the shoes, ma petit, and Gambit go along to help Logan find something for himself." 

Jubilee flung her arms around Gambit enthusiastically then pelted up the stairs. Logan watched her go and sighed. "Why do I feel like I'm gonna regret this?" 

"C'mon, it's not that bad. Gambit not asking you to give blood or anything, just try on an outfit or two. No harm in that." 

"It's not that, Gumbo. My little girl is going to her junior prom. She's growin' up and it makes me feel old." 

Gambit laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "It's something that has to happen. Kid's grow up, people change, feelings change. One day you look at something you've seen a thousand times before and realize something is different than it was before and it scares the Hell out of you and makes you feel alive at the same time. You want it all to stay the same, but you want to see what comes next, too. What could happen..." 

Gambit laughed nervously, "That made a lot o'sense, eh? Must be watchin' too much Oprah. Gambit grab his plastic and meet you down by the garage." 

Logan stared after Gambit. The words had made sense, but it had seemed like Gambit was talking about something entirely different and they had seemed almost an echo of things he had been thinking earlier. He felt a shiver run up his spine. The kid's eyes had been so distant, his hand so warm on his shoulder, and there had been something about his voice. His heavy Cajun accent had disappeared entirely during the speech, funny that he could not remember that ever happening before. Slowly he went to the closet and pulled out a hat and jacket. 

 

Gambit pulled on his sunglasses and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He had probably just screwed things up royally. Logan missed very little. If Logan figured out what he was doing and hated him for screwing with his head, he would be back where he was before, less one friend. He did not know how he would bear losing Logan's friendship. Things had been so much better lately. He liked being near the older man, going places with him and Jubilee, knowing all the while that he was making Logan happier than he had ever been, even if he did not know Gambit was the cause of it. 

He had dreamed many times about Logan finding out that he was the secret admirer, but in his dreams it was always different. He would deliberately let himself get caught and Logan would be there. He would say he understood, that he felt the same way too and sweep him into his arms. 

He sighed and slipped his wallet into his jacket pocket. It was too late to change the bet now, the wheel was spinning and he would have to let it ride. 

 

The mall was crowded with excited teenagers and harried looking mothers. Jubilee and Kitty soon spotted some friends and headed off with them. Gambit gestured toward one of the more upscale men's shops in the mall. A clerk descended on them the moment they stepped through the door and greeted Remy by name. Once he explained what they were looking for, the man looked Logan over with a practised eye and disappeared into the shop. 

Logan raise an eyebrow, "Come here often?" 

Gambit grinned back at him, "You might say that, Gambit has a reputation to uphold. This is one of his favorite shops." 

Logan glanced around the store, it suited Gambit alright. The racks were filled with top quality clothing in rich fabrics, fancy shoes that cost more than every piece of clothing he owned put together, colognes, watches, belts, jewelry, everything. He watched Gambit wander over to the cologne counter and toy with the fragrances. He picked up a small bottle and opened the cap inhaling deeply. Logan flared his nostrils to catch the scent...patchouli...a delicate blend, subtle, familiar. 

He started to say something, but the salesman appeared suddenly at his elbow with dozens of items. He started to protest that he just needed one outfit, but Gambit and the clerk ignored him discussing which combinations they wanted him to try on. Sensing that he was defeated even before he began, Logan just did as he was told, trying on outfit after outfit and coming out of the dressing room to turn slowly in front of his two critics. 

An eternity later, he came out of the dressing room in his own well worn clothes feeling like he had been mauled by the Hulk. The clerk was folding items up neatly into shirt boxes and bagging them. He protested that he only wanted one outfit. 

"It's okay, Logan. Some of them are mine anyway. They're on Gambit, for dragging you down here in de first place." 

"I can't let you do that." 

Gambit just waved a hand at him and flipped a credit card across to the clerk. He smiled and rang it all up almost fawning over the Cajun as he did so. He slid across the receipt and signature copy. Remy signed it with a flourish and tucked the purchaser's copy into the topmost box then slid the original back across the counter. 

They did not get a chance to talk after that because Kitty and Jubilee nearly bowled them over as they exited the shop. The two girls chattered excitedly the whole way home about their purchases, their dates, their hair. Logan found himself glancing over at Remy from time to time, he noticed the way his auburn hair fell over his face, the way his lips curved into his easy smile, the worried look that touched his features when he thought no one was looking. 

 

When they reached the mansion, Wolverine grabbed all the packages and carried them in. He left the girls in their room already deep in planning for the upcoming event. He carried the rest to Gambit's room and dropped them on his bed. "Now which of these is mine." He plucked the top box from the bag deliberately and opened it before Gambit could protest. The paper fluttered out and he caught it even as Gambit made a grab for it. 

He looked at Gambit without looking at the receipt, he looked afraid. "What's wrong, Remy? Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice was soft, soothing. 

"I..." Gambit lowered his head and shook it mutely. 

When it was clear he was not going to get an answer, Wolverine spoke softly, "Here." He handed the paper to the younger man without looking at it. Gambit took the receipt and looked up at him. Dark glasses still hid his eyes. 

Wolverine stepped up until he was within inches of the younger man. He lifted the glasses from his face feeling Remy shiver as his hand brushed his cheek. "You sure you don't wanna tell me what I'd see if I looked at that receipt." 

Remy did not answer, just stared down into Logan's blue eyes as if mesmerized. He could feel the heat of Logan's body so close to him, smell the faint odor of soap and aftershave, feel his breath against his skin. He needed to gasp for breath, he was burning up and frozen at the same time. His body tingled all over. He heard himself make a small sound as Logan stepped away. 

"When you're ready to talk, you know where I am, Remy." 

Gambit watched, frozen into motionlessness, as Wolverine turned and walked away. It was some time after he was gone that Gambit was able to think well enough to realize that he had left his new clothes behind. 

 

"Merde!" Gambit grabbed the alarm clock staring at it in disbelief. He had been in the tub over two hours thinking about what he should have said to Logan yesterday. "Logan! Oh Hell, your clothes are still here. Jubes will kill me!" 

Gambit dressed himself in record time. He decided against taking time to dry his hair and just twisted it up into a wet braid. He snatched up the boxes he had tossed carelessly onto the dresser and all but flew to Wolverine's room flinging the door open without knocking. 

"Huh?" Wolverine turned from the window to stare at the Arcadian. 

"D'you know what de time is, Wolfie? We're going to be late for de dance, Cher. Now hurry up an get into these." 

Wolverine muttered something under his breath, but obediently gathered the clothes and headed off into his bathroom. Gambit took a long look at himself in the dresser mirror, patting a few hairs back into place and straightening the black velvet jacket he had picked out. His eyes lit on a small stack of papers and cards on top of the dresser. His notes, Logan must have been looking at them when he came in. He picked up the card on top and read it. 

'Just knowing that you are near me makes me believe that there is something worth fighting for in this mixed up world. I watch you as you watch the kids and wish that I could take away that pain and worry that I see written in the lines of your face, the posture of your body. Then you smile at something and it is like the sun coming out on a rainy day. Even from so far away that smile warms me, makes me feel alive. I only wish that I was the one making you happy, the one you smile for.' 

He realized that he truly meant what he had written, he had put his whole heart into this little stack of papers. He closed his eyes and leaned against the dresser holding the card as if it were a lifeline. He nearly jumped out of his skin when thick arms encircled him from behind. 

"Logan?" 

"You mean those things you wrote or are you playing some kind of game?" 

"Gambit mean them, he tired of playing games, tired of being alone." 

"Why me?" 

Gambit thought about the question for a moment before answering honestly, "Your eyes, something sad in your eyes." 

Strong hands turned the thief around and he found his gaze drawn by those deep blue eyes. Then those hands were pulling him into an awkward embrace against a compact, heavily muscled body. He touched Logan's cheek gently and leaned in to brush his lips lightly against the older man's. The shock that raced through him at the contact stole every other thought from his mind. He whimpered softly as Logan drew away from him. 

"We're already going to be late. Jubilee will never forgive us. Promise me that you'll come here after the dance, that we can talk about us then." 

"Us?" He like the sound of the word. 

"Us, Remy. Promise me." 

"I promise." 

The dance went in a blaze of music and colour for Gambit. He danced with any of the girls who asked him, but his eyes never strayed far from the short, burly figure standing behind the punch bowl and watching everyone with over-protective, blue eyes. Jubilee claimed his attention for the last dance. 

As he swept her around the floor she leaned up close to whisper below the music. "Did something finally happen? Did you and Logan get together?" 

"What! What are you talking about, Cher?" 

"Don't play dumb with me, Remy LeBeau. I can see how you look at Wolvie and how he's been looking back lately. Then tonight you can't take yours eyes off of him. Are you an item yet, or not?" 

"Maybe, we're going to talk tonight after the dance, but you can't say anything to anyone, especially not him." 

"I know, scare Wolvie and he runs for the hills, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars." 

"Exactly." 

"Good luck, Gambit. I love both of you and I hate seeing you two all alone when you'd be so good for each other." 

"You really think so?" 

"No, I just said that to hear my head rattle." 

"You're to young to be sarcastic, Cher." 

"And you're too old to ask silly questions that you already know the answer to." 

He laughed and lifted her up in a dizzying spin as the music ended. She laughed and shoved him away. "Make me proud, Cajun." 

He grinned and headed toward the door. The lights were already back on and Logan was standing there, resplendent in his black and charcoal striped suit watching the children meander out in small groups and couples. Jubilee was the last to leave waving Kitty on ahead. 

She gave Remy a tight hug and kissed his cheek. Then practically flung herself into Logan's arms. "I hope both of you know that this growing up stuff does not change anything. You are both going to the amusement park with me this weekend and we're going to ride all the rides and eat cotton candy and corndogs until I barf!" 

Logan laughed and hugged her back. "Damn straight kid. My little girl will always be my little girl no matter how much she grows up." 

"Yup, don't forget it old man." 

"Old man?" 

She grinned mischievously then headed for the door tossing a wave back over her shoulder. "Goodnight, don't do anything I would do!" Then she was gone. 

Wolverine frowned after her. "I wonder just what she meant by that." 

Gambit just winked at him. "You got better things to wonder about tonight than that, Wolvie. Gambit see you in twenty minutes." 

The Cajun walked past him with a seductive parting glance that made Wolverine's heart race in his chest. Twenty minutes sounded like forever at that moment. 

He tossed the keys to Jean and Scott, the clean up crew, as they walked through the door arm in arm. He muttered a vague greeting as he headed out. He heard Scott wonder what was up with him. Jean giggled and told him that it was probably spending the last four hours chaperoning a room full of horny teenagers. He actually grinned at Scott's muttered reply of 'better him than me'. 

 

Ten minutes later he was pacing back forth in his room in his worn jeans and T-shirt watching the minutes tick past like slow torture. His mind was total chaos. He kept thinking crazy thoughts. 'He ain't coming. I'm old enough to be his grandpa. What the hell do two guys do in bed? Why the hell am I thinking about that? What would somebody who looks like him want with somebody who looks like me?' 

Just when he was sure he would jump right out of his skin, there was a soft knock at his door. He froze for a moment then opened the door feeling strangely shy. Gambit had changed too, into jeans that clung to his slender waist and long legs like a second skin and a black silk shirt. His hair hung loose around his face in unruly waves from being braided earlier and he had forgone his sunglasses revealing his uncanny eyes that glowed softly, crimson flames in an endless black void. 

Logan caught his breath and reached up with a trembling hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from the lovely face. "You came." 

"Gambit not mess this one up, Logan." 

Logan heard the nervousness in the younger man's voice and pulled him into his arms, shutting the door behind them in the process. With something close to desperation, he pulled Remy's head down to his and captured his lips in a fierce kiss. Remy answered with a need that matched his own. Talking was forgotten as desire built between them burning away any other thoughts. They stumbled to the bed undressing themselves and each other in the process. Logan did not need to worry about knowing what to do, instinct guided him and Remy did the rest. 

Morning sun slanting into the room woke Wolverine. He groaned and turned away from it freezing in place as a warm body stirred against him. He opened his eyes and looked at the Cajun in wonder. He was beautiful, radiant in the morning light. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the slightly parted lips. 

Gambit came to life in his arms immediately. Before he could blink, long arms were wrapped around his neck and the younger man's tongue was commanding his mouth. 

'Wow, you always wake up like that, Gumbo?" 

Gambit grinned at him mischievously. "You gonna have to find that out on your own, Cher." 

"Sounds like a plan to me." 

Remy beamed over at him. "Good answer." 

"So are we a thing, Remy?" 

"Oui, we're officially a thing." 

"What're we gonna tell the others?" 

"I'd say Jubes has already taken care of that, Logan." 

"Huh? Ya think so?" 

"You know her as well as I do, what do you think?" 

"I think everybody probably already knows from the housekeeper to Magneto." 

Gambit chuckled and pulled him down for another kiss. "Then we better enjoy this while we can. You can bet Scott'll have something to say about it." 

"He can kiss my hairy ass," Wolverine snorted. 

"No, you're hairy ass is mine and Gambit don't share." 

Logan laughed and stroked his cheek. "It's real good to see you smile, darlin." 

"It's real good to be smiling at you, Logan." 

Gambit snuggled up against the shorter mutant and buried his head against his strong shoulder. It felt more right than anything he had ever known. 

Logan looked down at the young man in his arms and felt the empty place inside of him vanish, replaced by a warm presence that felt like it belonged inside of him. He smiled into the auburn hair and closed his eyes letting sleep reclaim him. 

 

Outside their door, Jubilee froze until everything grew silent inside the room. When it did at last, she let out her pent up breath and laid a small box in front of the door. She flipped it open for a moment and smiled at the matching set of silver rings. They each had a single inlaid stone that was crossed with an X of silver. The larger ring had a deep red bloodstone, the exact color of Gambit's eyes. The smaller one was the same except the stone in it was turquoise in a shade that exactly matched Logan's eyes. 

She had saved up and bought the stones as soon as she saw them in a small antique shop. The rings had been a little too expensive for her, but the rest of the X-men had chipped in on them. The Professor had called in a favor with Magneto and the Master of Magnetism himself had formed the rings after Beast provided him with their ring sizes. 

"It's about time you two hard-headed idiots," she sighed happily. 

She closed the box and laid the card everyone had signed on top of it then crept down the stairs to where everyone was waiting for the new couple to wake up.


End file.
